Classic Poem

Although with justice I admir'd thy pen,
That did before adorn the English scene,
I easily can forget, and when I look
On this last act, neglect each other book.
Thy buskin'd and thy comic Muse may be
Preserv'd as monuments of wit and thee,
And in another temperate age be shown,
To prove our language had perfection;
But here is a design,—who does not see
In this a plot to take posterity?
A plot beyond thy Plays thou dost pursue,
And by an artifice, a silken clew
Of poesy, dost lead, and may'st betray
Our children into learning, as they play.
But prosper; I forgive thee, and presage
(If ignorance have not quite drown'd our age)
Thy book an entertainment with good men,
And from this root old art grow up again.